


Of Flirts and Jealous Spies

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Impossible Napoleon, Jealous Illya, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya has to do something about Napoleon's flirtatious ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Flirts and Jealous Spies

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble, but it got past the 1k word count so...here is a fluffy fic I haven't done in a while.

Napoleon Solo is a good looking man. A very good looking man, in fact. And there is no denying he is a real good flirt as well. Illya finds this particular trait of his partner’s too distracting for his liking sometimes, and it annoys him whenever he uses it to his advantage. Every time he chides Napoleon for his gross indecent behaviour, the American would only give him that irritating smirk and accuses Illya of being jealous instead. Illya would never admit it, of course, but Napoleon is right and it is only a matter of time before the green-eyed monster in him would rear its ugly head.

One afternoon, after he had just come out of Waverly’s office with Gaby in tow after a short discussion with their superior, Illya sees something that makes his jaw clench and his brows furrow. He knows he should not be bothered by petty insignificant stuff easily, but this is something else. This concerns Napoleon and when it comes to his partner, nothing can be considered petty.

“Hmm, that rookie agent seems to have a distinct liking towards Solo. But seriously, he has to get in line after you, don’t you think so, Illya?”

Gaby’s innate ability to read him is certainly not helping Illya at the moment. He tries to ignore her comment but can’t help from eyeing his partner disdainfully as he sees him talking to the agent Gaby had mentioned. The agent in question, Mark Snow, a new recruit from the MI6, tall and blonde and leaning way too close to Napoleon to Illya’s liking, is making his stomach churn at the sight of them together. If Illya doesn’t know any better, he swears that man is actually trying to flirt with Napoleon. He has that coy look in his eyes and his voice, as they both walk past them, is far too low for Illya to make out what’s actually being said. To make matters even worse, Napoleon did not even bat an eye their way and when Illya turns his head to look at both men again, he sees Agent Snow putting an arm around Napoleon’s shoulder, pulling him closer to whisper words in his ear that make Napoleon smile and laugh. 

_What a fucking flirt!_

“You should really do something or you’re going to lose Solo to him,” Gaby suddenly mutters, pulling Ilya out of his reverie. There is a knowing grin on her lips and Illya grunts before giving her a menacing look. He wants to refute Gaby, but his eyes keep drifting towards the two men. His annoyance is heightened when he sees Agent Snow's wandering hands behind Napoleon’s back now, lingers there for a little too long and his partner is not minding it one bit! 

“Illya, you’re turning red. If you stare at them any longer, your cheeks are going to turn redder than the shoes I’m wearing!” Gaby exclaims and tugs at his arm to get his attention. Her grin has gotten wider and agitated he’d been caught out, Illya quickly makes his way into his office, bangs the door shut behind him before Gaby could prod him any further. He then plops down on his chair and tries to focus on his work at hand. Grumbling to himself, he pulls the stack of paperwork he needs to complete before he leaves the office at the end of the day but Napoleon’s face keeps popping up in his mind, distracting him to no end. And knowing what’s troubling him would not go away easily, he decides he will have to let his partner know exactly what he thinks of the obvious flirtation that had happened right in front of his own eyes, even if it means admitting to Napoleon something he wishes he would never have to admit to. 

 

***

 

Illya arrived at Napoleon’s apartment a little after eight that night and the American who had just come out of the shower greets him at the door with only a towel tied to his waist. 

“Is he doing this on purpose?” Illya thinks quietly to himself.

“Can you wait while I get dressed?” Napoleon asks and Illya only nods, finds himself swallowing at the sight. He sneaks a quick glance at his partner before he disappears into his room, at his chest, his broad muscular shoulders and thinks it is a sight to behold indeed. Illya noticed the hint of stubble on his jawline and suddenly thinks, why is Napoleon sporting that rugged look? Is he trying to get Agent Snow’s attention? Fuck that man, he should not be getting any of Napoleon’s attention at all and then, and then, oh…Illya realises he has a problem. 

He tries to remember all the arguments he has made before this, about why Napoleon Solo is trouble and not someone, anyone, should fall hopelessly in love with. Yes, he has resigned to the fact that Napoleon Solo, the mastery of thief, has managed to steal his heart in more ways than he could imagine. And no matter how cheesy it sounds, that is the fact Illya has to live with.

He understands that’s the reason why he gets easily jealous. That’s the reason why he can’t help but grit his teeth whenever Napoleon flirts around with people. He has tried numerous times, tries numerous ways to push the idea aside, figuring perhaps the feeling would go away in time, but it gets worse by the day and now that he’s facing competition, he cannot let Napoleon slip out of his grasp. 

“Here,” Napoleon starts, after he appears again, now appropriately dressed in a loose fitting white shirt and khaki pants and he is holding out a small white paper bag out to Illya. “I think you might like this, Peril. Bought it on my way back from the office. Thought of giving it to you tomorrow but since you are here now—”

“What is this?” Illya asks, surprised, cutting Napoleon off mid sentence and Napoleon only smiles and when he smiles like that, Illya figures there is no one more breathtakingly beautiful than the American. Illya shakes off his ridiculous thoughts for a second and opens the paper bag in his hand. He looks inside and then flicks his eyes once more towards Napoleon. 

“A cupcake? For me?” he asks, incredulous. 

Napoleon rolls his eyes. “Do you see anyone else in here? Of course, it’s for you.”

Illya then leans back on the sofa he’d been sitting on while he’d waited for Napoleon and continues to stare at him. He wonders why he has not admit it out loud yet that he’s fallen madly in love with the American. Despite his irritating ways, he’s also impossibly charming and thoughtful and…

“Illya, you’re staring,” Napoleon coughs after a moment. 

“You should just come out and admit it to him, Illya. It’s getting beyond ridiculous.” He sees Gaby in his head, hands on her hips, and could almost hear her nagging voice in his ear. “You don’t want to lose him to Agent Snow, do you?” 

Illya shakes his head.

“Sorry, Cowboy. Thanks anyway, for this,” he quickly mutters when he realises Napoleon is now giving him a strange look, gestures at the paper bag in his hand before placing it on the table in front of him. “Gaby must have told you about my sweet tooth cravings.”

Napoleon laughs at that. “Of course. Where else would I get my source of information when it comes to you?”

Illya fixes his gaze on the white paper bag on the table. Ever since he had a taste of that butterscotch cupcake he had bought from a newly opened bakery shop from across the street where his apartment is, he’s hooked. He can’t get enough of it and had told Gaby about the best tasting cupcake he had ever had. Napoleon’s apartment is five blocks away from his and Illya’s heart is doing all kinds of strange things at the thought of him going all the way just to get him that damn cupcake. 

“I swear Gaby sometimes talks too much for her own good,” he says, tries to hide his obvious embarrassment. His eyes flick towards Napoleon again and then he only sees that smile and Illya can’t help but groan inwardly. This is going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. 

“So, Illya, why are you here?” Napoleon then asks after a second or two. Illya is instantly reminded of his reason. Agent Snow. He scowls. But his mouth, somehow, is not cooperating with his brain. 

“You okay?” Napoleon asks Illya who’s eyes are focusing a little too intently on him, bordering on obtrusively conspicuous, now that he has noticed it. 

“Am fine,” Illya swallows. But Napoleon being Napoleon, doesn’t believe it one bit and comes over to him much to Illya’s horror. 

“But you don’t really sound okay. Want to tell me about it? Something must be bothering you or something must be on your mind. You’re here at my place, so obviously you’re here to tell me something.”

“No,” Illya shoots him a look. 

“No?” Napoleon asks with one eyebrow raised. 

Illya glanced towards the door, contemplating on making a run out of the apartment. He’s thinking about it, thinking and thinking, knows he doesn’t want to be a coward because he's an ex KGB spy for goodness sake, when a hand on his arm turns his attention on Napoleon once again.

“What is wrong?” Napoleon repeats with more conviction. 

He is kneeling in front of Illya now, and Illya’s aware of Napoleon’s hand, how he is rubbing it up and down his arm. Illya could shake him off, push him away. He needs a little space between them because this closeness clouds his judgment. He blinks and hesitates and when Napoleon hums, with that little pout on his lips, Illya figures, what the hell. He should just let it all out in the open, get it done and over with. Agent Snow or no Agent Snow, Illya is going to tell his partner exactly what he thinks of his flirtatious ways. 

“Are you aware of how and what you do, affects people?” Illya starts and his answer just takes Napoleon aback.

“Excuse me? What do you mean? What did I do?”

“Everything, Cowboy. Everything that you do. You flirt. You flirt all the time and you enjoy it and you don’t even know it.”

It hits Napoleon on what Illya is trying to tell him and then, suddenly, he is leaning closer towards the Russian. He smirks and tilts his head. “Is this about Agent Snow?”

Hah! So he is aware of what he had done earlier. Illya growls, obviously annoyed that he had been right all along about his partner. 

“Answer my question,” he demands but Napoleon shakes his head at him instead and starts to ask Illya a question of his own.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” It is Illya’s turn to ask again and he is getting a little irritated at Napoleon’s behaviour. “ _This is about you, not me_.”

“You don’t think what you do affects people?” Napoleon counters and Illya crosses his arms across his chest.

“I do not do anything at all.”

“Says you.”

“Really I do not, Cowboy. And do you even have a point?”

“Well I don’t know about you, Illya, but, us talking like this right now?” Napoleon whispers, his voice suddenly low and throaty, moving in closer, “it is certainly affecting me.”

“Solo,” Illya says, taking a deep breath, backing away slightly from Napoleon’s advancing move, like a predator stalking its prey. “Do not flirt with me if you do not mean it.”

His eyes briefly catch the blue of Napoleon’s and his breath hitches. “Don’t,” he warns again.

“I wasn’t. Never with you, Illya.”

Illya loses it. Because this is Napoleon Solo talking to him like that. Napoleon who flirts with whoever he is near, who talks like he is always teasing, words always coming out of him sounding sensuous. Illya hates it but has to admit it is making his heart pound so hard against his chest, he fears he might have a heart attack. The knots of anxiety in his gut tightens with every passing second and he sees himself at the edge of a cliff, facing the ocean, ready to make that plunge.

“Illya,” Napoleon calls his name, the way the L’s roll off his tongue sounding absolutely delicious. Illya doesn’t realise how or when, but a strong arm is now on his back and a warm steady hand is on his shoulder. And then, the next thing he knows, Napoleon is kissing him, and his touches are giving Illya goosebumps all over, sending shocks to his system, leaves him breathless and wanting more. The kiss goes on and on until Illya doesn’t realise when it is when they had stopped kissing. 

“Gaby once said I’d never be able to make you jealous,” Napoleon murmurs against his lips. He’s practically sprawled on top of Illya on that sofa, his arms braced on either side of Illya’s head. “I’m glad I’ve proven her wrong.”

“When did she say this?” Illya asks. He’s not even annoyed he has lost this game they have been playing. His fingers have found their way up Napoleon’s hair, threading it gently. 

“It was when I flirted with that mark in Paris last month and I’d asked her whether you were jealous because you had avoided me all day after that and she had said that to me. I’ve made it a point from that day on to prove her wrong.”

“Chop Shop girl might have planned it,” Illya says with a hint of a grin at the corner of his lips. 

“I think Gaby is a bit more conniving than any of us would give her credit for,” Napoleon says. 

Illya tilts his head back on the cushion and regards Napoleon through half closed eyes. “How did I fall for a flirt?”

Napoleon laughs. “I only do that when it requires of me, Illya. But not when I’m with you. This is the real me you’re seeing. I’m not flirting.”

“So that cupcake from you. Is it not one of your moves?” 

“No, I wanted to get that for you, honest.”

Illya’s heart is filled with warmth. 

“I am a bit scared about this, Cowboy,” he slowly admits. He closes his eyes and reaches out to caress Napoleon’s cheek, lets him lean into his touch. “Are you not?”

“Truthfully? I’m terrified. But this is what I want. Wanted it for a long time, Illya. Had been too scared to admit it, though.”

Illya wants to say he is more than terrified, he is a jumbled mess inside, but instead he only leans up and placed open mouthed kisses along Napoleon’s jawline, loving how the stubble brush against his lips and then when he sucks particularly hard just above his pulse point, Napoleon shivers. He moans and hides his face at the crook of Illya’s neck. 

“Am I hoping too much? Maybe I am hoping too much.”

Illya put his hand across his mouth, the only way to shut Napoleon up. “You talk too much sometimes.”

“I can’t help it,” the American mumbles in Ilya’s hand and chuckles. Illya proceeds to skim Napoleon’s lips lightly with his fingers. 

“You have completely ruined me, you know that?”

“I know.”

Illya leans up, kisses him and then says, “You’re a charmer, Napoleon Solo. I hate you for it.”

“No, you don’t.”

Napoleon’s eyes are dancing and from that close of a range, Illya can see the specks of brown in that blue eyes of his. He growls and pulls him closer against his body. But inexplicably, he suddenly remembers he’s yet to reprimand him for his act with Agent Snow. He gives him a frown and pushes him back slightly, his act confusing Napoleon.

“Peril?” he asks, knows something is wreaking Illya’s head. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Hmm, Cowboy, about this Agent Snow. I think he is trying something on you. And you are giving him all the right signals to make him want to do it. I do not like this.”

Hearing that, Napoleon only throws his head back and laughs heartily. “Oh Peril, he doesn’t like me, he only wants to see if Gaby is available. That is all. I just made a good performance out of it.”

“Gaby?” Illya says and then Napoleon is leaning in and whispers in his ear. “You’re an idiot, Kuryakin. I’ve only got eyes for you, please remember that.”

Illya can’t help but grin sheepishly after realising his mistake. And then, just like that, Illya’s twisting towards Napoleon once again, takes his shoulders and kisses him full on the lips. And to think, he’s got Napoleon Solo, ex CIA thief under the palm of his hands all this while and he didn't even know it. It's not too bad after all to fall in love with a flirt. He's definitely reaping the rewards now.

Illya smiles.


End file.
